"If I consent to sell it? Sell it--to
whom?"
Sylvie put a caressing arm around her. "Your father had the news
this morning," she said, "and we all decided to tell it to you as
soon as we came back from the Consulate. A wedding-surprise on our
parts, Angela! You know the picture was on view for the first time
yesterday to some of the critics and experts in Rome?"
Angela made a faint sign of assent. Her wistful eyes were full of
wonder and anxiety.
"Well, among them was a purchaser for America--Oh, you need not look
at me, my dear!--I have nothing to do with it! You shall see the
letter your father received--and you shall decide; but the end of
the whole matter is, Angela, that if you consent, the picture will
be bought, not by any private purchaser, but by the American
nation."
"The American nation!" repeated Angela. "Are you really, really sure
of this?"
"Quite sure!" said Sylvie joyously. "And you must say good-bye to it
and let it go across the wide ocean--out to the New World all alone
with its grand and beautiful message,--unless you go with it and
show the Americans something even more perfect and beautiful in
yourself than the picture!--and you must be content to take twenty
thousand pounds for it, and be acknowledged as the greatest painter
of the age as well! This will be hard work, Angela!--but you must
resign yourself!"
She laughed for pure delight in her friend's triumph,--but Angela
turned at once to her father.
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